


Venom

by FreeTheSoul



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, implied lucisan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 02:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18540034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeTheSoul/pseuds/FreeTheSoul
Summary: After the rebellion, Belial pays the Supreme Primarch a visit.





	Venom

**Author's Note:**

> The snake imagery they use for him is pretty fitting.

At the end of a long, isolated hallway, Belial stands in front of an oppressive set of doors. He sighs, rifling a hand through his hair, then knocks sharply with the back of his knuckles.

“Enter,” a voice answers, muffled through the wood.

Belial complies, pushing them open. Lucifer is seated across the room at his desk, the feather quill in his hand poised mid-movement as he peers up carefully at his guest. When he recognizes who it is, his stony expression fades to one of familiarity.

Belial lets the doors shut themselves quietly behind him. “Good afternoon, o Supreme Primarch. Don’t mind me popping in, do you?”

“Of course not,” Lucifer replies warmly, “but I must apologize. If I had known you’d be coming, I would have prepared something.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist about it,” he flashes a smile. “Things have to be pretty hectic after the rebellion, hmm? I wouldn’t want to bother you for just a short visit.”

At this, exhaustion seems to become more visible on Lucifer’s face. His voice lowers to a murmur: “Thank you. By all means, come in.”

As he saunters inside, Belial takes a cursory glance around the room. He hasn’t been in here for quite a while - it’s awfully stuffy, and he has no particular drive to spend his time chatting up someone so boring - but it’s as lifeless as he remembers. Everything is immaculate, clean to an obsessive degree and as devoid of personality as its resident.

He does, however, notice something is out of place.

The feature of Lucifer’s otherwise plain room has always been the wide, tall double-paned windows on the east wall. Now, though, the silky white drapes are drawn tightly closed. Belial, of course, knows exactly why - through some cruel twist of fate, Lucifer’s room had been designed with windows looking out on the laboratory gardens. Like a moth to a flame, he directs himself towards them and stops with his hands loosely gripping the fabric.

“It’s rather dreary in here without any natural light, hmm?” Belial twists himself around to catch the expression on Lucifer’s face, but it’s hidden as he stares down and away at the papers on his desk. The lack of a response almost makes him frown, and he sighs as he turns back around.

With a grand gesture, the curtains sweep open to allow a stream of warm afternoon sun to slice through the room, splitting it in two. Lucifer, on his side, sits small and silent in the shadows.

Belial’s silhouette is long and pronounced as he stands in the center of the window, and he drops his arms back to his sides as he takes in the view. The gardens are indeed beautiful, lush and overgrown with flower bushes and winding vines on the old stone pillars. From the right angle, a portion of the inner gazebo is just barely visible, and when he turns around he makes an inconspicuous check to ensure that Lucifer’s chair is in the line of sight.

“Much better, wouldn’t you agree?” He offers amicably, before striding casually across the room to claim the chaise lounge not far from the desk. Relaxing across it, he props his head up on the armrest to face Lucifer.

“It wouldn’t be polite of me to drop by without at least asking how you’ve been doing-- so, how _are_ you? Things have been hectic lately, I’m sure you’re not short on stories.” Belial prattles on, gesturing with his hands lazily as he talks. “After transferring, I get a lot less of the juicy tidbits from your side of things. How’s it been, dealing with the disarray among your angels? The High Council has been reaming our poor Cilius all day and night about it.”

“It is…” Lucifer hesitates over his words, “alright. Things have been gradually smoothing over. I have given Michael jurisdiction over the dealings with Pandemonium in the interim.”

“Oh?” Belial arches an eyebrow. “Still too fresh for you, is it?”

Lucifer hunches over his paperwork ever so slightly more, and his voice goes quiet. “I... wonder if it is cowardly of me to place this in the hands of my adjutant.”

“Well. It's her job to make up for your shortcomings, isn't it?” He can’t help it, watching him like this. Belial grins so wide that he bares his teeth, lips pulling back to reveal his gums. “But it’s an easy problem to fix, isn’t it? Why not just go pick up your poor, deplorable, traitor of a pet? Break the rules, just this once?”

His chest swells with unabashed glee at the desperate, wanting expression that Lucifer stares up at him with.

It takes Lucifer a moment to gather himself enough for a reply. “You know as well as I do that I cannot, Belial…”

“Of course, of course,” he waves a hand and drops it, tone light despite the ravenous glint in his eyes. “But you’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”

Lucifer goes silent, but the look on his face betrays him. Belial knew well before coming in here, ever since the rebellion, the answer to his question - and yet, seeing the Supreme Primarch reduced to a pathetic, warbling mess right before his eyes is a new kind of ecstacy.

Belial sighs from where he’s draped across the lounge. “Well, not that Cilius would allow it. And you wouldn’t want to disappoint your beloved maker, would you? Not after he’s placed _all_ that faith in _you,_ his infallible magnum opus.”

 _Oops._ There’s an edge of spite that he hadn’t meant to let slip out.

Lucifer’s expression tenses at this, but it passes quickly. His tone is hard when he replies: “I have no intention of going against his wishes.”

“Of course not,” Belial hisses under his breath, and he inhales to rid himself of his lingering loathing. “Well, then. Ever thought about,” he pauses, flicking a tongue over his too-white teeth, “remaking him?”

Lucifer sets his quill down slowly, carefully, index finger remaining on the feather spine as if to keep it still.

“It wouldn’t be very hard - Cilius is a rather thorough man, he still has the blueprints _somewhere._ I’m sure he’d be willing to give them to you if you asked, don’t you think?”

As if to keep _himself_ still.

“Just snap your fingers, and he’ll be back nice and new.” Belial drawls, stretching his back against the couch. “Oh, but if you don’t like the idea of having two Sandalphons running around - although, I’m never one to say no to a threesome, and _that_ would be an interesting one - you could always make an appeal to wipe the original’s memories. Same body, just a fresh start.”

“I--” Lucifer’s voice catches and dies, a rare and tangible show of weakness, a vulnerability for Belial to pounce on. The sound is music to his ears, and he continues boldly.

“Teach him all about your _coffee_ again. Show him your pretty little garden, and pretend it’s new every time. Do it all over again, and again, and again.” And an unspoken _‘I’ll ruin it every time’._ “I wonder if it won’t end the same--”

“That is quite enough, Belial.” Lucifer finally interrupts, his voice cold. “I am not interested in the idea.”

Belial’s grin dies at the interruption, eyes narrowing disdainfully. “Of course, it was a ridiculous thought.” He makes a dismissive gesture with his arm as he speaks, and does not bother to continue.

An uncomfortable silence settles, and Belial finds his eyes wandering around the room again. Specifically, they trail down from Lucifer’s face to the floor behind his desk, just barely visible over his shoes from his placement on the sofa.

Dust catches in the lower feathers of Lucifer’s wings as they trail against the floor, dirtying them with an ugly brown. Now that Belial’s looking down there, there seems to be an awful lot of molted feathers on the ground behind his desk, and more than a few of them seem too fresh to be natural loss. As if on command, Lucifer’s wings shudder subconsciously and dislodge a new, pristine feather that floats down to land among its brethren.

Belial lazily flicks his gaze to a different corner of the room before Lucifer can notice where he’s staring, and finds something equally interesting.

The sole expression of any personality in the room is a shelf in the corner by the window which houses Lucifer’s various coffee-related trinkets. A burlap sack of beans; a portable coffee maker; the oft-used set of gold-and-purple gilded cups. He lingers on it for a moment.

The former set of four cups is missing one.

Belial’s eyes narrow when he notices the discrepancy, and he ponders it for a moment. He _had_ heard snippets of gossip among the lower angels that there had been an incident in the gardens in the week leading up to the rebellion, but he had never paid it enough mind to consider that Lucifer’s beast would have snapped at its master--

The sound of his name snaps him out of his mental monologue, and he flicks his gaze back to find Lucifer’s clear blue eyes staring at him.

“What was that?” Belial asks.

“Ah,” Lucifer seems slightly surprised at his lapse in attention. “Forgive me for interrupting your thoughts. I was simply wondering what you had come by to talk to me about.”

Belial’s mouth creases into the slightest frown at the question - perhaps he had been too forward, if even the ever-polite Supreme Primarch was asking him to get on and leave. “Oh, nothing much. The Astrals seem to be under the impression that all of us beasts are their messenger boys, and asked me to send you a notice.”

He swings his legs around and gets to his feet, pulling a neatly-folded note out of his pocket to present to Lucifer with a flourish. He takes it with the utmost care, unfolding it and giving it a brief cursory glance.

“That,” Belial states plainly, “and Cilius wanted me to remind you that you two have an arrangement in the evening. You wouldn’t care to invite me to your ménage à deux, would you?”

“Thank you.” Lucifer pauses, expression blank as he considers Belial’s comment. “Ah… If you’d like to join, I believe it would be better to ask Lucilius…?”

Belial stares at him and sighs. “Oh, you’re never any fun. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Anyways, our chat was nice, but I suppose we’re both busy people. See you, Lucifer.”

Lucifer nods as he turns away. “Farewell, Belial.”

Belial has made it to the door when a voice sounds behind him: “Belial.”

His hand pauses just before he places it on the door. Letting it drop back to his side, Belial turns around and leans his back against the wood as he peers expectantly at Lucifer.

“Yes?”

“I…” Lucifer bites his lip, his eyes sliding to the side before snapping back to Belial’s. “You will always be my ally, won’t you?”

Belial bites back a sudden laugh at the question, forcing himself to mask it with an open, welcoming expression. “Of course, of course. We’re practically brothers, aren’t we? It _wounds_ me that you’d put me on the same level as those traitor angels.”

Belial, ever-attentive, does not miss the way Lucifer flinches at his words.

“My apologies, Belial. These past few weeks have been… taxing.” Lucifer’s voice is hollow, and he sighs. “Thank you, as always.”

“Oh, I’ve done nothing to be thanked for,” Belial smiles thinly. “In any case, I really must go. I’ve got things to do and Cilius to attend to, y’know?”

A ghost of a smile passes over Lucifer’s face at the mention of his maker. “Of course. Perhaps you’ll visit again?”

“Haha. Maybe, maybe.” His response is light and non-committal. “In any case-- bye-bye.”

As he exits through the great double doors again, Belial steals a glance behind him. He catches a glimpse of Lucifer as he stares, tired and gaunt, through his window with the Astral note forgotten in his hands. With his guard down like this, he looks truly miserable - his exhaustion is visible in the creases under his eyes and the sad bend of his wings, and Belial has to wonder how much longer he can keep up appearances before this charade falls to pieces.

Belial barely makes it to the end of the hallway before he erupts in raucous laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s like dangling a carrot in front of a donkey.
> 
> Now, I would like to express that Lucifer is by no means a dumb man - but he IS a desperate and vulnerable one. Willful blindness, eh?
> 
>  
> 
> I find it rude when strangers comment criticism (constructive or not) unprompted, so please don't! I write fics for my own entertainment.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
